


The Changeling

by MrProphet



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 12:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10697244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet





	The Changeling

“I’m telling you, Professor,” Ace said, “we’re getting dirty looks from everyone in this town. Have you got me wearing the wrong clobber again?”

“Oh ye of little faith,” the Doctor chuckled. “Your outfit, as always, represents the height of local fashion.”

“Well then it’s you, isn’t it? I told you you should change every now and then,” Ace reminded him. “I mean, why do I always have to wear the starched collars and the flippin’ corsets, while you swan around the place in the same mouldy old waistcoat wherever we go.”

“Mouldy old waistcoat?” the Doctor protested. “This outfit is timeless.”

Ace harrumphed. “I sometimes wonder if you haven’t deliberately picked the one outfit that was  _never_  fashionable,” she grumbled. “And you’ve dodged the question  _again_.”

“Quite.” The Doctor sipped delicately at his tea. In all fairness, he did fit in better with the slightly superior décor of the tea shop than Ace did, regardless of clothes. It was perhaps his gift to fit in everywhere; that was why he never bothered with costumes unless he felt like dressing up. “Now, as to the matter of our frosty reception: The year is 1753 and we are in rural England. People are still afraid of outsiders, of all outsiders.”

“Oh, and that Scots burr can’t be helping matters.”

“No more that Perivale cant,” the Doctor assured her. “Anyway, it’s not the clothes, or the accents, nor even that they don’t like our faces. No, the people here were  _already_  scared when we arrived. We’re just the icing on the cake.”

“So, scared of what?” Ace asked. “Is it Daleks?”

“No,” the Doctor said.

“Cybermen, then? Cheetah People?”

“No, Ace. This isn’t that kind of fear. This is the kind of fear that only comes from within; rising up inside a community, driving it against itself.” The Doctor leaned across the table. “This is a town in the grip of a witch hunt.”

“Blimey, Doctor!” Ace exclaimed. “You mean you’ve brought me back here and made me wear a corset and three layers of underwear just to get burned at the stake?”

“Ace! Keep your voice down. This is a civilised country; they don’t burn people at the stake. You’d be hanged for witchcraft; or pressed to death with stones.”

“What?”

“And they’ll take you for a wanton if you let on you’re only wearing three layers of underwear,” the Doctor added.

“Why are we here, Doctor?” Ace asked. “I’m getting pretty good at knowing when you’ve landed somewhere on purpose by now, so you must be up to something.”

“Me? Up to something? The very thought.” The Doctor smiled his most secret smile. “Drink up,” he told her. “We have things to do.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Like a jail break.”

“What?”

“You did remember to leave all of your Nitro-9 in the TARDIS, didn’t you?” the Doctor asked.

“Of course. Not exactly ladylike to tote around high explosives, is it; and I’ve only got this little clutch bag.”

“And how much explosive haven’t you got?”

“Just one can; a small one.” Ace grinned. “I’ve only got this little clutch bag,” she repeated.

The Doctor picked up the little silver salt cellar from the table. He unscrewed the lid and tipped the salt into the teapot. “I suspect we won’t need a whole can,” he explained. “Not even a small can.”

*

A salt cellar full of Nitro-9 seemed to be just the right amount to blow a hole in the wall of an 18th century rural English courthouse. After that it was a simple matter to extract the prisoner, a nine year old girl with soft, chestnut curls and the most adorable brown eyes Ace had ever seen.

Ace had to hand it to the Doctor; he never did things by halves. Having broken a prisoner – albeit a small one – out of jail, he swiftly compounded the felony by stealing two horses for their getaway. They didn’t stop running until they reached the TARDIS.

“Right then!” Ace gasped. “What now? Where do we drop you off, sweetheart?”

“Drop me off?” the girl asked.

“Where do you live?”

The girl shook her head. “I can’t go back there,” she insisted. “They threw me out; handed me over to the Constable. They said I was… unnatural. A changeling child.”

“A what?” Ace asked.

“A changeling,” the Doctor replied. “A faerie child exchanged at birth for a human baby. Said to be bringers of ill-fortune and thieves of good luck.”

Ace touched the girl’s hair gently. “That’s horrible,” she said. “And your own mum and dad said that about you? I mean, my mum used to shout at me, but even she never tried to disown me. It’s not on.”

“Oh, quite,” the Doctor agreed. “It’s a terrible thing to say to a child, although in young Enid’s case the accusation is entirely fair.”

“What?”

“What was it they noticed?” the Doctor asked Enid.

“I got hurt last week,” she replied. “They said I healed too fast and too well.”

“What happened?” Ace demanded.

“I broke my leg,” Enid said.

Since the girl had done more to control their shared horse than Ace did, Ace thought the Doctor might have a point.

“You see, Ace, young Enid here was placed with the Browns at birth, in order to hide her. The Browns’ own child died of quite natural causes and was quietly given a decent burial, in case you were wondering.”

“Not exactly my first concern, no,” Ace admitted. “Who swapped her? And why? And how come the Browns didn’t notice?”

“Well, Mrs Brown was somewhat distracted at the time, and Mr Brown was of course absent from the room,” the Doctor explained. “That left only the midwife and the attending doctor as witnesses to the exchange.”

“Just because I like you to know I’m following,” Ace said, “I’ll do the expected and ask what the doctor’s name was.”

“Doctor John Smith,” the Doctor replied. “Ably assisted by Sister Melanie Bush. As to  _why_  we made the exchange…” He looked down at Enid. “Of all the barbaric customs that the universe has produced, few are more appalling than those which insist on visiting retribution for the sins of the parents on the children.” He looked at Enid again. “Did you get the recording I left for you?”

The girl nodded. “The puzzle box wasn’t difficult to open,” she assured him. “A child of five could have done it. I was four,” she added.

“Oh!” Ace exclaimed. “She’s a Time Lord. No-one else in the galaxy could sound so superior,” she added.

“Thank you,” Enid said, sounding genuinely flattered.

“Yes, Ace,” the Doctor agreed. “Enid is a Time  _Lady_ , or a Time Lady-in-Wating, if you will. Her entire House was sentenced to eradication following a spectacularly botched coup by a handful of its members. I was instrumental in preventing the coup, but afterwards I rescued as many of the House as I could; I felt responsible for them.

“Since then, most of them have been recaptured, but not Enid. But the puzzle box which contained my holographic message to her also had an alarm function, which told me that she had been detected. I was afraid that the CIA might have tracked her down.”

Enid shook her head. “Just bad luck,” she sighed.

“Now we need to put her somewhere else,” the Doctor declared. “We’ll find somewhere quiet and out of the way to drop you off.”

Enid nodded in understanding. “I always liked the look of Camelot,” she said.

“Right,” Ace said. “We might need to talk about the difference between romance and reality,” she suggested.

“King Arthur wasn’t real?” Enid sounded shocked.

The Doctor chuckled softly and unlocked the door of the TARDIS. Ace put a hand on Enid’s shoulder to guide her through behind him. “Well, yes,” she admitted, “but not so much castles and chivalry, more spaceships and grenades.”

The door swung shut behind them and the TARDIS wheezed into life.


End file.
